


The Dark God of Heaven

by ShadeofElizabeth



Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25868608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadeofElizabeth/pseuds/ShadeofElizabeth
Summary: Three brothers find themselves in a... unique situation when the queen of heaven is insulted at a high status mortal wedding.On Hiatus
Relationships: Amphitrite/Poseidon (Lore Olympus), Hera/Zeus (Lore Olympus), Thetis/Zeus (Lore Olympus)
Kudos: 64





	1. Code Red

Code Red

It started as a joke. Zeus was plastered, as per usual, and Poseidon and Hades were sitting conspiratorially watching him drool on the cocktail table between them, the two oldest brothers taking turns with shooting the sleeping king with straw wrappers, spitballs, and crumpled drink napkins. The cool light of the night club made Zeus’ face look even deeper purple than usual, and as Poseidon got an especially good hit to his little brother’s face - successfully inserting a straw wrapper into his nostril, the brothers guffawed at the state of the “King of Heaven.” 

“Hey, watch this,” Hades smirked, crunching the straw wrapper down around the base of the straw, letting it sit wrinkled on the table. He filled his straw with the melted ice from his now empty scotch on the rocks and slowly dribbled the water over the wrapper. It came to life, squirming slowly across the table like it was crawling towards Zeus’ unsuspecting nose. 

Poseidon shrieked with laughter, whispering conspiratorially. “Zeus, Zeus watch out! It’s Python, Hera sent her back, she’s gonna get you! Quick, call Apollo!” The wrapper writhed on the table once more, then saturated with water, began to lose it’s form. Hades picked up delicately and laid it carefully across his brother’s nose. 

“Don’t bring up that shitty sun god,” he snorted. “I would seriously debate calling him for help on anything, even if it were to save me from an enormous snake.” Poseidon laughed again, and the two of them studied their brother closely, considering his newest feature as the paper began to sag onto his cheek.

“You know,” Poseidon smirked, “From this perspective, he looks a little like you. I guess we know which one of us got the good looks after all…” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

Hades rolled his eyes. “You mean because you’ve got gills and he and I don’t?” 

The Sea King shook his head. “No stupid, because you’re almost the same color in this light. Look.” 

Hades smirked, then closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply and letting a tendril of power sweep over him. His normally white as snowcaps hair fell long down his back, changing in shade to a deep, lustful purple. He put his head next to his sleeping brother and Poseidon took a picture with his phone, giggling as he immediately sent it to his wife. 

“Amphi is gonna love this…” 

Hades snorted as they both turned to study their younger brother. True, in this lighting, there was, some resemblance, Hades mused. Especially if you considered the way he was covered with spitballs and a black light, the varying textures and trash that surrounded Zeus’ violet skin could almost, almost pass as Hades when he was in his true form. But the nose… and the eyes…. Hades did not have Zeus’ good fortune. Zeus saw his mother, Rhea, when he looked in the mirror. Hades came eye to eye with the titan who had tortured him his first quarter of a century. He blinked slowly and rubbed his eyes. Thoughts traveling to Kronos usually meant it was time to call it a night and sober up. Otherwise, well… Hecate would be asking for yet another raise. 

It was then that all three of their cell phones lit up with the words “Code Red,” vibrating and ringing shrilly, an especially harsh sound in the relaxed environment of the Underworld night club. Poseidon and Hades looked at one another, aghast, as their phones continued to ring, then both leaned forward to listen as Hades swiped to answer. 

“Hello?” They both whispered, looking at one another in dread. Athena’s voice was soft but rapid fire on the other line, speaking so quickly they could not get but every other word. 

“Athena? It’s Hades, slow down, slow down, what’s going on?” The silver goddess sounded muffled, talking to someone babbling hysterically on the other line. Between the two of them, Poseidon and Hades were able to string together what had happened. Zeus sat snoring peacefully beside them, dead to the world. 

“Athena, I’m so sorry, but Zeus is not in any state to be…” The hysterical voice from somewhere beyond Athena rose to a new pitch that could be heard clearly without the speaker phone. Hera. “Okay, okay, we’ll bring him. Meet you at the courtroom in fifteen minutes.” Hades hung up the phone, and looked warily at Poseidon, whose look of horror mirrored his own. “Well shit.” 

The two brothers turned to the King of the Gods, his long purple hair streaked with spilled alcohol, Magic Nymph body glitter from the dances he had bought earlier that night, and his older brothers’ recent additions of the table trash. It was gonna be a rough night. 

  
  



	2. Cat Fight

At the counter, Poseidon mulled over what he had overheard on the phone. He still wasn’t sure he understood everything, but from what he gathered, it sounded like a trial was imminent. And Zeus was supposed to preside. 

A dark green satyr stopped in front of him, crooking an eyebrow at the King of the Seas in incredulity. “Didn’t I cut you guys off, like, three rounds ago?”

Poseidon waved his hands good naturedly, causing the contents in the bottles along the bar to rock. He was never very good at controlling his powers when he got this tipsy. “I know, I know, we’re going. Can you make us some espresso before we hit the road? We need to sober up.” 

The satyr glanced back uneasily at his liquor collection, which was now a little too close to the edge of the shelf for comfort. Turning to smile brightly at the king, he held out his hand comfortingly. “Of course, your majesty. It’s on the house, whatever you need…”  _ Anything to get you three out of here _ , he grumbled to himself as he watched the green gilled god stumble back to his table and high five the god of wealth. The two of them were conspiring about something or other. He sighed and set about making the coffee drinks, adding as many extra shots of caffeine as he legally could. They would need all the help they could get after a night like tonight. 

Back at the table, Hades was staring at his brother as the horror of what was about to happen struck him anew. The three of them had snuck out of a mortal wedding earlier that day, certain they would not be missed and altogether bored of the ceremony of it. They had left behind the rest of the Pantheon to cover for them, not expecting things to completely go to shit while they were gone. Usually, if things went badly, they were the reason. This petty cat fight was beyond any of their comprehension.

* * *

As they stepped out of the Aether, Zeus propped between the two of them, the screaming was so loud it gave Hades a new idea for punishments in Tartarus. In the middle of the courtroom Hera, Aphrodite, Demeter, Amphitrite, and Hestia all stood in a circle screaming at one another, while Hecate, Artemis, and Athena tried in vain to calm them down. 

Zeus groaned, the noise seemed to be bringing him back from his blackout. “‘Dite, is that you? Come back to bed with me…” he muttered, “I wanted to try that thing again.” Hades and Poseidon looked at one another in horror. He was in NO position to be seen by Hera or any of the other goddesses at the moment. 

After looking around frantically, the two brothers noticed a chaise lounge down the hall from the open doors of the courtroom and half walked, half dragged Zeus towards it. The brothers heaved and were able to get him up onto the chaise, but no matter how they turned him or the chair, his legs or arms were always visible. After several moments of frantically wrestling and not getting anywhere, Hades summoned his helm of invisibility, and secured it on Zeus’ head, praying that he wouldn’t wake up and wander off while they got to the bottom of this. With a nod, the two turned and walked back to the open doors, now noticing the rest of the gods huddled along the edge of the room, reluctantly watching the show. 

Hades caught a flash of marigold near the closest support column and slowly approached his nephew, the God of War. “Are you causing this?” He asked, low and menacing.

Ares glared at him. “No, Dad I…” He stopped mid sentence and stared for a moment. “Hey Uncle. Sorry, your hair threw me.” 

Hades brushed through his hair, surprised to find it was still very long and purple after the joke he had pulled with Poseidon earlier that evening. He shrugged. There was no point in explaining it now. 

Ares grinned at his expression. “I’ve got nothing against purple, you know.” He turned back to the goddesses before them, eyebrows raised in amusement. “I’m not causing a damn thing. This is pure, unadulterated feminine rage. And I am LOVING it!” He flashed a naughty grin at Hades, then turned to where his girlfriend was now attempting to put Demeter into a headlock. “Dite, pull her hair. Pull it!” 

Hades felt the anger surge inside of him, and bit it back, knowing it was Ares playing with him. Taking a deep breath, he locked eyes with his nephew, then pulled a cigar out of the air and took a long drag, teeth clicking together impatiently. “Well?”

Ares eyebrows shot up. He knew that tell. 

“What. Happened?” 

“Wellll,” Ares shrugged, “Everything was going fine. Wedding seemed smooth. Dite was happy. Mom was happy. Hestia was happy. Everything seemed, really good? And then the toasts. It all went to shit.” 

“Okayy, why? What went wrong with the toasts?” Hades received an answer to his question as Hera screamed, “I was supposed to be the guest of honor. Goddess of MARRIAGE! How DARE you try and strip me of that role?” 

“Oh noooo.” Hades watched as Poseidon unsuccessfully tried to sneak Amphitrite away, whispering in her ear. She snarled and kissed her husband passionately, but then turned back to watch the drama unfolding before her, cheering as Hera began stepping closer to Aphrodite with her nails raised. 

“Yaas, Queen! Get wrecked!” Amphitrite screamed as Poseidon looked at Hades with a “Well, I tried?” expression. Hades resisted the  _ very _ strong urge to slap his palm to his forehead. He had learned a long time ago that spending time with his brothers this regularly, that particular expression of his frustration would only succeed in giving him a gnarly bruise. 

Hermes was behind Hera now, holding his caduceus over her body and pulling her tight against him to restrain her from clawing at Aphrodite. Hands pinned to her sides, she screamed. “Where is my husband?! You will pay for this!” She flung herself wildly, trying to look around despite Hermes’ stranglehold over her. As she writhed, her bright blue eyes snaked momentarily across Hades face before Hermes spun her in the opposite direction, still trying to create some separation between the two goddesses. 

Ares sighed, glancing at Hades dramatically. “I guess that’s my cue. Can’t have my girlfriend fight my mom.” He slouched lazily toward the fighting. “Baby, we gotta go.” Hades didn’t get a chance to hear Aprodite’s growled reply, however, because at that moment, Hera began to call for her husband once more. 

“Zeus! Zeus! Why are you just standing there? Help. Me.” She grunted, thrusting Hermes off of her finally. “I swear, you are such a good for nothing--” 

She stopped mid sentence as she fully turned to see not her husband, but Hades with his ridiculous hair before her. It was enough to still the entire room. 

“What happened to you? Where’s Zeus?”

Hades felt the familiar pain behind his left eye that meant a stress headache was coming. At the same moment, a twinge of irritation swept through him, and he snapped. “EnouGH!” He roared. 

The room was thick with tension. “Ladies,” he said as gently as he could, frustration coating every syllable of his words. “Please. Zeus is preparing to hear your complaints now, but we need you to behave in an orderly manner. And in order to hear your complaints, you need to be at a reasonable decibel. Please.”

The goddesses humphed and muttered, but more or less drew themselves back into some state of decorum. Hera summoned her cigarette holder and began to take deep drags, blowing smoke rings in Demeter’s face before pacing to the other end of the hall. 

Demeter looked like she was ready to lose it again but before she had a chance, Hecate grabbed her arm, whispering softly. The two then vanished. 

“Okay. Now, please seat yourselves, and we will get started… with whatever this is… shortly.” Frantically, Hades waved Poseidon over, and the two dashed out of the room. 

“Fuck, man! What are we gonna do?” Poseidon’s ears unfurled into his long, nereid based ones. He was stressed too. 

“We gotta wake him up. You know he’s the only one who can calm Hera down when she gets like this.” Hades muttered. They both looked to the chaise, where they had left their brother hidden. Hopefully he would be a little more awake now?

As Hades reached for his brother, he considered how thankful he was that Zeus was the one in the hot seat, not him. As he kept reaching for his brother, he realized, not only was Zeus not in the hot seat, he was not there at all. The King of Heaven was missing. And as the eldest, Hades would need to take his place.


	3. A Bad Plan

“Alright, up and attem, big guy,” Poseidon reached for Zeus’ head, only to find… air? “Uhh, he must have rolled over.” Green webbed fingers began blindly groping for Zeus across the chaise, looking for their now invisible, very intoxicated brother. They came up empty.

“Mmmmaybe he fell on the floor?” Poseidon whispered, kneeling and beginning to probe his hands under the chaise, despite the fact that it was far too narrow a space for Zeus to be--except for maybe in his goose form? 

“Fuck!” Hades swore loudly. “Why does he have to be so difficult!” His headache flared again, and the pain accompanying it felt like his idiot brother had snuck up behind him and struck with his lightning bolt. He took a deep breath and tried to let out the tension he was holding, but it was no use. The chandelier above them began to rattle, and the mirror to his left cracked. Pop. Pop. Pop. One by one, the bulbs in the chandelier blew, leaving the two brothers in a semi dark room. Poseidon looked up, startled, and then grinned. “There he is!” he cheered, pointing at the now broken mirror.

Hades head whipped around, seeing nothing but his own reflection. “What the fuck are you on about. That’s me.” Poseidon wriggled his hands together.

“Exactly,” he said, laughing like a crazy person. 

Hades deadpanned. “You are seriously the weirdest…”

“Stay right where you are!” Poseidon called. “I’m getting Hecate. Don’t. Move.” He ran down the hall, then, confused, ran back. “Wait, where did she go?”

Hecate materialized next to Hades shoulder, yellow green eyes staring almost disembodied in the low light. “You called?” She purred, smiling with sharp, hungry teeth. 

“Hecate,” Poseidon squealed. “We need you to make Hades look like Zeus.” 

Hades eyed him warily. If this was the plan, it was not a good one. But unfortunately, it was the best they had at the moment. 

Hecate stared. “Whyyyy?” She asked slowly, glancing between the two of them. 

“Ummm,” they said in unison. “Well….” 

Her eyes looked even bigger than normal as she stared them down in disbelief. “You lost him?” 

“Ever the perceptive one, Hades, I can see why you keep her around--” Poseidon’s voice grew uneasy as a hand clamped around his throat and the witch pulled him right up to her face.

“You, Fishsticks,” she cooed, “want me, a chthonic goddess, to magick my king to impersonate the King of the Gods? Do you want us all to end up in Tartarus?” 

“No, no, nothing like that.” Poseidon quelled under the combined glare of Hades and Hecate. “Okay maybe exactly like that.” 

“And did it ever occur to you that your younger brother may not take too kindly to being impersonated by one of the only beings in the three realms who holds any real threat to his seat of power?” 

“Now hold on just a minute,” Poseidon held up a webbed finger, “I have just as much of a possibility as a threat as Hades here. I am Very powerful.” 

Hades groaned. “Not the hill to die on, Fishsticks.” 

Poseidon rolled his eyes. “Okay, Blue Balls, what do YOU think we should do?” 

Hecate smirked at the nickname. She knew for a fact her boss had been getting pretty regular head from the new PA she’d hired a few months ago, a gorgeous river nymph with a work ethic about as high as her self esteem. She had walked in on the two enough times to learn she needed to knock instead of appear like she was used to, and Hades knew she was getting tired of it. She grinned widely. “Yes, Blue Balls, my King, do you have an idea?” 

Hades eyed her apprehensively. She was on the edge of insubordination, and she knew it. He decided to let it pass. She had walked in on Minthe and him often enough. “Unless you can find him, no?”

“It shouldn’t be too hard. I can track just about anyone, except for maybe you in your helm.” She chuckled. 

“Heh. About that.” 

“Hades.” 

“Yes Hecate.” 

The witch’s eyes flashed and the now dark chandelier began to twist and writhe above them. “Please tell me you did not place your sacred helm of invisibility onto your idiotic, inebriated brother’s fat head.”

Poseidon scoffed. “Now Hecate, when you say it like that it sounds like a bad plan!” 

“IT WAS A BAD PLAN!”

“STOP YELLING!” Hades roared, sinking to the chaise and burying his head in his hands. 

He looked up at Hecate wearily. “Do you have a better idea?” 

She scoffed. “I don’t want any part of this, there’s no way I want to be involved in your little ‘not coup.’ But if I were in your shoes, I would do whatever I could to make sure Zeus doesn't know what you're up to."

She turned and walked smartly down the hall. “You did not talk to me! I’m going home!” And with a flash, she was gone. 

* * *

_ Earlier that day….  _

Still at the beginning of his ascent, Helios continued to climb through the sky as the mortal realm slowly awoke. Grasses and flowers seemed to nod and smile in welcome to the rays of early morning sunshine, yet the peace was not shared by the mortals who hurried from one building to the next in the courtyard of the mortal king, Peleus. 

The palace grounds were buzzing as preparations for the royal wedding began. Servants were bringing in large barrels of mead, stacking crates of wine, and hefting kegs of beer (brewed by the goddess of the harvest herself, no less!) along one side of the courtyard. Along the other, a draping archway and tent was being erected, the loose fabric blowing breezily in the morning air. 

Flower nymphs broke through the forest barrier, giggling and skipping towards the courtyard, causing every man and several of the ladies of the court to stop what they were tasked with and gape in awe. The nymphs seemed to almost float, giggling, as they approached the tent, and with delicate waves of their soft pink fingers, a bower of flowers swept across the tent, bending the fabric low under the weight of amaryllis, daisies, ivy, and pink roses. 

The effect was striking, bright reds and pinks against the cream of the canvas, the arrangement brought to mind a lover’s lips, or, more darkly, an open wound. 

The nymphs clapped enthusiastically as a younger girl, no more than the age of 5, and similar in coloring, threw her hands into the air, giddy with excitement. All around them, pale pink rose petals fluttered down, covering the aisle with a blanket of soft, tender beauty. 

“Oh, milady, they look wonderful!” A nymph cooed, brushing a strand of long pink hair out of the little girl’s face. The child-nymph smiled triumphantly.

“Want to see more?” Her high voice carried across the courtyard, musical, gentle, sweet. The nymphs nodded enthusiastically, gathering around her with breaths held in excitement. 

The girl wriggled, her small pink body unable to contain the delight she felt at using her powers. “Don’t tell Mama, ‘kay?” With that, she skipped out of the pack of nymphs toward the center of the courtyard, and looked up into the beautiful sky above. It was  _ such _ a perfect day. Arms outstretched, she spun in circles, laughter bubbling out of her, unrestrained. The sound was a delight in and of itself. 

As she spun, the laughter seemed to manifest, carrying on the wind like dandelion seeds, spinning, glittering around the servant crew and nymphs. One by one, the motes drifted higher and higher, until they came to the same height as the archway, the bower, and the serving station on the far end of the yard. Suspended there, the motes began to transform again, growing to almost invisible seeds, which then bloomed into more of the same beautiful pink roses from the arrangement, unfurling from deep pink buds into pale, perfect blossoms. The scent flooded the guests with memories of warm spring evenings, drinking deeply of cold water from a well, and the feeling of sunlight as it coasted through the cresting leaves of the trees above. 

Still the sprite-child spun, waving her hands now like she was conducting some unheard melody, and she began to sing in that same clear, high voice. The servants discussed this afterwards, as they had never heard such a song quite like it, each of them trying desperately to keep hold of the lyrics that stubbornly slipped from their brains. 

Hector, the village beekeeper, had been delivering the last shipment of mead when he heard the child singing. Though no one would believe him later, he was sure the song made mention of the music and tenderness of honey bees and their love of flowers which brought blessings to all life. 

Samara, the local seamstress, had finished the delicate embroidery on the bride’s veil earlier that morning, and was delivering it herself to the bride’s chambers. As she walked back down the stone steps to head for home, she too heard the song, though she claimed the lyrics were thanking the grass for growing so lush as to keep the sheep well fed with shining wool coats.

The nymphs giggled and cheered, as they heard the song speak of the rain, and the sun, and good, rich earth that tenderly nursed roots and shoots of fragile new growth. 

Little Kore alone knew all the words, and their meanings, as she sang soulfully of the beauty of decay, how lovely death was that it brought new life, how rot enriched the world around them, and sweetened mortal life with its bitter reminders. She sobered slightly as she thought of Gretta as she sang, Gretta who had often sat and stroked her back with gnarled, age spotted fingers, Gretta who was mortal, Gretta who had laid down next to Kore as they sat at the lake a month ago while Kore gently braided flowers into her long, silver white hair. Gretta who had not gotten up again, no matter how Kore tried to wake her to show her the flower crown she had given her. 

Gretta would have loved this, she thought, and her tiny arms pushed out on either side of her in a grand finale, a sudden rush falling over the yard as the flowers wove together, creating an intricately woven net of green vines above, secured by roots acting as pillars on all four corners of the cobblestone yard.

The audience gasped as Kore brought her hands down finally and opened her eyes again. The pink roses had woven themselves in and out of awnings, spread high above the yard that would soon be turned into a dance floor. Every so often, Kore spotted the telltale signs of pollinators. Blue wings of butterflies lazily stretching along an especially large pink blossom, soft hums of fat bumble bees droned pleasantly as they nuzzled into pollen stores. Strands of ivy trailed from the net stretched above them, and swayed gently in the breeze. Beautiful.

“Oh, milady.” The nymphs shrieked, running to her. “Oh, sweet Kore, it is too beautiful! The mortals do not deserve it!” They looked around suspiciously, as if to shame the servants present for enjoying the display. 

Kore shrugged. “Why not? Everyone likes pretty things, don’t they?” A small blue dragonfly landed on her nose, as if to prove her point. The nymphs cooed and stroked her patronizingly as they spirited her away, each thinking to themselves that Demeter would be furious if she knew what a show of raw power they had let her daughter put on. Coming to help their cousin set up for her wedding, it turned out, had been a  _ very _ bad plan indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flower Meanings:  
> Amaryllis: Full of pride and splendor  
> Daisies: Innocence and purity  
> Pink Roses: Elegance, refinement, sweetness (<\--- Coincidence that pink roses are Kore's signature flower? I think not!)  
> Ivy: Eternity, fidelity, strong attachment
> 
> *****
> 
> So I should probably mention that I've never done anything like this before. I'm not certain of the etiquette behind fan fiction, though I've certainly read quite a bit over the last couple weeks, so please forgive me and educate me if I am missing something. I'm so thankful to everyone for the Kudos that I've already received! You guys are awesome! 
> 
> This fanfic is all based on the incredible talent of Rachel Smythe's Lore Olympus. Can't wait for the next update tomorrow!


	4. The Fishwife

Two Hours Before the Wedding

_**Forest Outside the Cave of Chiron** _

As the magic of the floral decor began to subside, the servants began to go about their work once more. This was certain to be a very special day for all the mortals involved. 

From the treetops, a golden colored goddess grinned smugly, one leg casually swaying back and forth in the morning air. She had foregone the usual mortal dress of a flowing peplos and himation in exchange for her go-to attire-- combat boots gifted to her from her older brother, black leather pants, and a grungy t-shirt. Her golden hair, dip dyed red as mortal blood along the ends, hung behind her head in a high ponytail, but swung low to her waist as she continued to let the wind dishevel her, basking in the chaos. As she twisted from her vantage point, she envisioned her plans for the day. The mortals had no idea how right they were, Eris mused, as she breathed in the simmering apprehensions and excitement. It was to be a very special day indeed. 

* * *

Two Hours Before the Wedding

_**King Peleus' Royal Court** _

Thetis was having a cow. To clarify, she was not being _had_ by a cow. She told Zeus that once was enough after he wanted to get frisky again with his weird bovine fantasies. No, she was getting married to a mortal and her wedding looked like a fucking florist had thrown up all over it. 

“Why the FUCK are all these roses here?” She screamed, looking up and studying the web of vines stretched above her head. “Who is responsible for this?” 

All around her, servants blanched and walked away quickly, heads down. One of the merchants who had delivered her veil, Sara or Sama or something, stepped forward, eyes downcast. “My lady,”

“Did you do this?” Thetis was seething. 

“No, my lady. It was a gift from the gods. Flower nymphs.”

Of course it was. Her country bumpkin cousins, she was sure of it. But the sheer power of this space, could the nymphs have accomplished this on their own? It seemed, deeper than that, somehow. She took a deep breath. 

“Oh, very well then, if it's from the gods I suppose we can’t protest too much.” She batted a bee away as it approached her face. “Though how I’m supposed to be able to walk around when I’m being attacked by insects, I can’t imagine.” She shuddered delicately, wrapping her wedding peplos closer to her coppery ‘mortal’ skin --Peleus said he didn’t mind she was a nymph, but it was not something that was common knowledge to the mortals. 

She sighed, wishing Zeus would come by early like he promised he would. They had giggled in the office earlier that week about how fun it would be for him to invoke “Prima Nocta,” but he had yet to make his appearance, and the wedding was scheduled to begin in two hours. She pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath before massaging her temples. Gods, weddings were stressful. 

“Milady? Should I fetch you a cold compress?” Sam-something asked.

“You’re still here?” She tried emulating one of Zeus’ famous maxims, arching a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “No, leave me be. I am no longer in need of your services.” With that, Thetis turned and made her way back up the stone steps, back to the bridal suite where her fiance had ensured she would have whatever she needed for the big day. If she had to get married off to keep Hera from suspecting the true father of her baby, then so be it. But the King of Heaven owed her -- big time. 

As she reached the top of her own personal tower, she stretched and pouted in front of her mirror, dropping the mortal disguise to see herself as a sea nymph once more. She intended to cash in on those favors. She just wasn’t sure what she wanted yet. 

* * *

Two Hours Before the Wedding

**_Olympus_ **

Hades stepped grumpily from his car, slamming the door of his BMW behind him. It had been an impulse purchase, the M8 had just come onto the market and he had found himself ogling it at the showroom when he went in for his annual inspections. Wrapped in matte black, with deep blue accents, he usually found quite a bit of satisfaction driving it on his way from the Underworld to Olympus. Today however, nothing could get the bitter taste of what was to come out of his mouth. 

Grumbling, Hades pulled open the trunk and pulled out the bottle of scotch he had brought with him, scowling as he looked over Zeus and Hera’s sprawling home. 

“Why are we celebrating like it’s his wedding day? Just because he knocked up some nymph….” He groaned, rubbing his face with his free hand, then awkwardly tried to close the trunk with his elbow, still clutching the scotch to him as he continued his muttered ranting. “Just get it out of your system now, you know you won’t be able to make comments like that around Hera. The whole reason for this stupid charade is because of her.” He groaned again, out of anger this time, thinking how frustrating it is that his brother would force him to be a secret keeper for something so… deplorable. No matter how many times Zeus cheated on Hera, it never became easier for Hera, and it _never_ sat well with Hades. 

Still, he thought, as he began to march up the long drive. With Thetis married, maybe it would keep her occupied? She would be less accessible. It could, potentially, help Zeus and Hera’s relationship, couldn’t it? Even if it came as a result of adultery and deception? He arrived at the door and straightened his tie before ringing the bell, sighing. Lying to himself would not make this any easier.

  
  



	5. Apples to Oranges

_**One Hour Until the Wedding** _

_**Olympus** _

“You boys almost ready?” A slender golden hand wrapped around the edge of the doorway, and Hera’s pinched, delicate face peered through to the den. The brothers turned, guiltily, like they had been caught stealing cookies, or candy, or….

_Gin_. 

Her best gin. The bottle lay empty on it’s side along Zeus’ massive desk, as they stood around with half full glasses and smiles that were quickly disappearing thanks to the fury in her eyes. 

She smiled. A cold, cruel smile, snapping her fingers for her golden cigarette holder. The kings of the three realms cringed. 

“Bunny…” 

“Don’t. Just…” She took a deep drag from the stem and then pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping the smoke would relieve the tension she felt building behind her eyes. “I’ll see you there.” She walked away, leaving the door half open behind her. 

As she got to the front of the house and began to gather her keys, purse, and sunglasses, she heard footsteps on the stairs.

“Are they ready to go?” A low, alto voice, full of sweetness and innocence called from halfway up the bannister, as her beautiful daughter leaned precariously over the railing. “I’ll be ready in just a second, Mom, just need to finish my hair. It’s not cooperating today.” Sure enough, the long blonde, bloody looking locks seemed knotted and frizzy. She pulled at her half done braid and smiled self deprecatingly. “Sorry, I really thought I’d get it this time.” 

Hera felt her anger begin to subside.

“Oh, sweetie. Let me--” She began walking up the stairs to her youngest daughter. 

Eris smiled brightly, but Hera could see the storm in her eyes. Deep purple, to near black, depending on when she was feeling particularly angry, Eris’ eyes were her father’s--like the God of Thunder himself, so did his daughter’s eyes flash and pierce with anger, power, and outrage. Impulsive, mischievous, and sweet like her mother, Eris’ was a neutral mix of the king and queen, holding both the best and worst qualities of her parents. Hera tilted her head to the side, examining the teenager thoughtfully, before motioning for her to spin where she stood. 

Eris grimaced, but did as she was told, rotating in a small circle. 

“What did you want to do with your hair sweetheart? A waterfall braid? Chignon? Fishtail?” 

“I was going for a fishtail, I thought a chignon would be too hard.” 

Hera chided her gently, raising her daughter’s chin with a finger before she spun her and began detangling her hair, gently combing through and then gathering it up into an elegant coil at the back of her head. 

“Apples to oranges, love.” She smiled as she tucked and wove, finally conjuring hairspray and pins from the bathroom for the finishing touches. 

“The fishtail is difficult because there’s so many little pieces, and it is a lot of work when your hands are up behind your head the whole time. Chignons are difficult because you need to keep the hair smooth and together. Either way, tricky situation...” She layered a cloud of hairspray over the younger girl’s head, coughing delicately as she waved a hand in her face.

As the mist cleared, Eris turned to look at her mother, violet eyes wide and searching. Hera smiled warmly, finishing her thought, “...but well worth the effort. You are truly a vision, my dear.”

Eris smiled, then a shift happened. Hera nearly missed it, but after millenia of Zeus’ tempers, she could read those eyes like a mortal’s soul. Something was off. She narrowed her eyes, studying her daughter’s face, searching. 

“What, do I have something on my nose?” Eris reached delicately to her face, and then Hera saw it. The flash, like the lightning bolt of her husband, nearly green in the violet eyes. Eris was planning something, calculating something. Hera felt her heart stop for a moment, then breathed evenly, not wanting a hint of her suspicions to color her feelings for her daughter in this precious moment. 

“No, no. I was just curious, are you wearing mascara?” 

Eris blushed and nodded. 

“Well well… my little goddess really is growing up.” She turned on the stair, calling over her shoulder. “Come now, we really must get going. Can’t have the officiant showing up late, what kind of signal would  _ that _ send!”

As the queen grabbed her purse and keys and began the brisk walk to her car, her daughter rolled her eyes and followed, eyes glinting a strange, malevolent green. 

  
  


_**Peleus Castle** _

_**15 Minutes before the Wedding** _

Hera sighed as she stepped out of the portal into the Mortal Realm, dusting a few ‘anti sparks’ of aether off her silk chiton. She frowned, glancing at the courtyard before her, full of mortals who were milling absently, waiting for the festivities to officially begin. 

_ Where is Peleus? He should have started already? Have they even started serving drinks? Why is this always on me?  _

She sighed again, and stepped towards the courtyard, carefully placing her feet so as not to have mud ooze through into her sandals. Behind her, Eris stumbled over the edge of the portal, nearly tripping and dropping the wedding gift they had brought along in the process. 

Her daughter swore as she struggled to get her balance, teetering with the large package in her hands. Hera gave her a look, and she immediately pressed her lips together, apologetic. 

“Sorry Mom.” Eris glanced around for a place to set down the gift. “I just don’t really understand why we have to be here in the first place.” Hera could feel her daughter’s gaze, intense and curious. “It seems really irregular to have all three of the kings of the realms attend a mortal wedding. What is the occasion exactly?” 

Hera stared ahead, not really seeing anything but trying her best to breathe as she thought of how to answer her daughter’s question. It didn’t help that it was one she had frequently asked herself over the past few weeks. 

“ _Thetis_ \--” She felt the name hiss across her tongue like a burning coal, “is very _important_ to your father.” A pause, as Hera colored slightly, ichor darkening her marigold skin to a slightly brighter hue than normal. 

Eris cocked her head at her mother, eyes wide and disbelieving. “Oh. Is _that_ what we’re calling it now?” 

Hera shot her a dark look. 

“I’m just saying, Mom. I don’t get it.” 

“Eris?” Hera challenged, a bite in her voice.

“Yeah?”

“What have I told you about using your powers when we are in public?” 

“Erm, not to?”

“Correct. Now please go put the present on the table. You are supposed to be finding our seats for the ceremony right now, not causing your mother distress.” With a wave of her hand, the queen of heaven sent her daughter towards the lone table that had been set up near the beverages tent along the edge of the pavilion. 

Grumbling, Eris stumbled toward the table, lugging the present up onto the display, then pushing it so it sat towards the middle of the table. As she gave it one final shove towards the center, a few presents fell behind onto the ground below. She smirked in a grim sense of satisfaction, rolling her eyes at the charade she had to put on around her parents. It was so boring to play as the dutiful daughter. Thank goodness this wouldn’t have to be for much longer.

Glancing behind her to ensure her mother was fully distracted by Peleus' lack of appearance (thanks to the mead delivery arriving earlier than anticipated, he would be sleeping off his drink for a little longer still), Eris turned back to the task at hand.  _ This _ would be the crown jewel of her plan for the evening, the lynch pin that held all her planning and scheming over the last few months. Once this string was pulled, the entire tapestry of the next century would unravel--glorious and bloody and completely chaotic.  _ Just like me. _ She felt her eyes flash green again in excitement and anticipation at the thought. 

Reaching subtly with her powers, Eris opened a small door into the aether, similar to what her mother did whenever grabbing a drink or cigarette, and pulled a single, golden apple into her open palm. A perfectly written note lay beneath it, penned carefully the night before so that no one would know who it’s true author was. 

**_“A tribute to the most powerful goddess of the pantheon.”_ **

She felt her lips split into a calculated smile as she envisioned the pandemonium that would occur. Each of the goddesses had such different abilities and capacities, and she couldn’t wait to see how they would react to being pitted against one another. 

She set the apple carefully on the table, the note pinned to the bottom. “Apples to oranges.” She grinned ruefully, “Let the games begin.”

  
  



	6. The Far Daughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And just like that, we're back to the present! I may do a few more flashbacks eventually, but I really want to see what our characters are up to now that we have a bit more of an understanding of the backstory. Thanks for hanging with me as I go through this story, it is definitely more "seat of my pants" than it is plotsy, but I am having fun and hope you are too!

_**Present Day** _

_**Underworld** _

Far from Olympus, the Goddesses of Magick and Harvest were having their own private argument as they reclined on the sofa in Hecate’s drawing room. 

“Hecate,” Demeter sighed, “you know I can’t take this respect lying down. Hera and Hestia have both had it coming for millenia, and I am  _ tired _ . I am tired of the superior attitudes of Olympus, I am tired of the disrespect that comes from having a physical domain, I am tired of the manipulative ways both of them treat me.” Her voice trembled. 

“I want to be taken seriously again. I used to be a hero in my sisters’ eyes. I used to be seen as  ππη, the  _ ‘Night Mare _ ,’ I used to be seen as _ a force to be reckoned with _ .”

“Or a horse to be reckoned with?” Hecate smirked.

If looks could kill a goddess, Hecate would be a pile of ash. 

“ANYWAYS, I am trying to say that  _ I am hurt _ , Hecate. I am hurt not to be taken seriously, I am hurt that the tribute was so quickly assumed to not be meant for me, I am hurt that Hera does not see me as powerful or worthy of the same respect she commands simply because of who she is married to. It is  _ insulting _ , frankly, and I’m  _ tired of it _ .”

Hecate rose from the sofa contemplatively, her long black gown trailing behind her as she reached for the teapot which had finally finished steeping. Returning, she procured two chinaware cups, the first wreathed in delicate golden vines with tender shoots just beginning to bloom, the second crossed in a map of cracks and damage that had been filled in time and time again by a tender overlay of silver filling. The result of the two cups was one of sun and moon, of day and night, of life and death. The two friends had always represented two sides of the same coin, now was no different. 

She poured the tea, and extended the golden cup wordlessly, settling the pot once more on her table, then sinking again to join her friend. 

After a long, lingering sip, her golden eyes met Demeter’s violet ones. 

“I know you’re tired, Demi. I am too. It’s been… frustrating. Being relegated to the sidelines. Did you know, this new generation of godlings and nymphs have started a rumor that I am a minor goddess?” She laughed out loud. 

Demeter frowned, shocked. 

“It’s true, I’m telling you. Don’t ask me how it started, because I have no idea. But Hecate, Daughter of Perses and Asteria, Titaness, Sovereign of the Crossroads, born of the depths of Tartarus itself, before the Titans were overthrown. Older than even Aidoneus Hades --  _ Hecate _ , is nothing more than a minor goddess. A witch who does the Underworld’s paperwork.”

Demeter shook her head sympathetically. 

Hecate continued. “I understand, I really do. But there is power in the underestimation. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten exactly where I wanted to be because I played into people’s interpretations or expectations for me, instead of allowing myself to become a pawn in their game, I made them a pawn in mine. And so, I allowed myself to remain a sovereign. To remain a goddess over these lesser beings.” She sighed, rubbing her temples with delicate blue fingers. “As frustrating as the situation is, I think it calls for a strategic hand. One that reminds the pantheon of exactly what respect we are due, without revealing who is pulling the strings. Are you with me?”

Demeter rolled her eyes and nodded. “I can never hope to outmaneuver you, can I?” Her dry sarcasm brought a twitch of a smile to Hecate’s black lined lips. 

“Well, now, that wouldn’t make me a very good sorceress if you could, now would it? Especially when we’re standing together at a crossroads.” 

Demeter grinned, then raised her teacup, the filigree glittering in the air. “To power.” 

“To power.”

Behind them, an elaborate roll of carpet smelling vaguely of vodka, vomit, and nymph body glitter, groaned and shifted slightly, small shivers of electricity sliding along the rubber gripped edges. 

The goddesses didn’t seem to mind, talking and laughing late into the evening. 

This would work. It had to. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the shorter chapter this week, I am halfway through my classes and will be taking a break from school in October, so I should be better focused on writing at that point. 
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments? Do Demeter and Hecate know what's in the carpet? What will their game for power be? I would love to hear your thoughts! 
> 
> ~Beth


	7. The Golden Boy

Ares sighed as he pushed the door of his father’s study closed. After transferring Aphrodite home, and ensuring that Eros would stay with her to help her calm down, he came back to the palace to check on his mom. Hera was strong, but she wasn’t unbreakable. Ares had seen the fractures grow and mend again and again over the years--not to mention the way her anger called to him whenever he was within a 200 mile radius. It was unquenchable, and all consuming. Because of this, Ares was one of the few people that Hera couldn’t hope to hide her true feelings from, making him the perfect confidante. Barring the fact that this created an incredibly unhealthy and codependent parent-child relationship, it worked pretty well for the both of them. At least, that’s what they told themselves. 

“Ma?” He stepped into the study, looking around the large room for a sign of the goddess who had given him his golden skin. He heard a soft sob in response. Crouched behind the large executive desk, a crumpled form in a beautiful silken chiton was curled on the ground, an empty bottle of gin clutched to her chest. 

“Oh, Ma,” he sighed, crouching down next to her and brushing a tendril of her golden hair from her face. “He never showed?” 

She hiccoughed, then turned to glare at him, ice blue eyes swimming with the rage she felt for Ares’ absent father. 

“I called a Code Red--or, Athena did, and Hades and Posiedon both came, but Zeus never showed. I said I needed my honor defended, that I had been disrespected, and he didn’t even bother to show his face. And then, when I ask Hades what’s going on, his only response was that Zeus was here, he just wasn’t available!” She swore bitterly. “As if there’s something more important than defending your spouse!”

Ares bit down on the retort that made him want to comment on Hera’s tendency to complain publicly about her husband rather than defend him, but decided that now wasn’t really the time for pointing out her hypocrisy. 

“And,” she wailed dramatically, “they drank my best gin, and I don’t have any left!” 

Ares snorted, his laughter at the drama of the situation finally getting the better of his restraint. Hera glared up at him. 

“Traitor.” 

“Sorry, Ma. You’re just cute when you get all feisty. Makes me wanna go rough up whoever caused ya grief.” 

“Well you can start with your idiot uncles.” 

“Where’d they go, anyways? Weren’t they sticking around to help diffuse the situation?” 

Hera sniffed delicately. “They both said they were ready to talk whenever I was. I wasn’t ready to _ talk  _ though, I was ready to  _ drink my gin _ . But  _ they _ already  _ drank it _ .” She sighed. “What I wouldn’t give for a bottomless cupbearer…” She shook her head solemnly. 

“Okay, well now that you’re talking again, why don’t we get to the bottom of this. I’m sure there’s answers to be found with Uncle Hades and Uncle Posie.” He grinned. “And if not, we can make them go buy us some gin. How’s that sound?”

Hera’s grin just barely reached her watery eyes. “You get your brains from my side of the family…” 

* * *

Mother and son wound their way into the secluded sitting room to the left of the royal court. Within, Athena, Hades, and Poseidon all sat in varying states of distress. Athena, collected and calm as always, sat perched in a comfy looking wingback armchair, the gray tweed perfectly complementing the silvery silk of her peplos as she perused a leather bound volume that appeared to be written in ancient Sumerian. Despite her relaxed demeanor, there was a crease between her eyebrows, and her pupils seemed to be staring into the same spot of the book as her lips moved soundlessly. Ares was familiar with this look--it was one he had seen on her dozens of times on the battlefield. 

Her uncles, on the other hand, stood apart on opposite sides of the room. Hades was muttering to himself, one hand running through his still purple, long hair, the fingers of his other hand drumming against his lips as he paced back and forth. Poseidon, ever the lovable middle brother, leaned against the large paned window, repeatedly fogging the glass as he tried to write Amphitrite’s name with one long green finger--but kept running out of room and starting again. 

Ares cleared his throat, causing all three of the room’s occupants to jump. He leaned casually with his back against the door, gesturing to his mother. Slowly she stepped into the room, regal as ever, and lowered herself primly into a high-backed chair. 

All eyes on her, she took a deep breath and let it out again slowly. “What. Happened?” 

  
  



	8. What Happened? Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the baby chapter, I wanted to get something published but I'm not ready for the full thing. Hoping to get more done by Tuesday. Thanks for reading!

“What happened?” Hades repeated, staring at the golden goddess incredulously. “Bunny, shouldn’t you be the one answering that for us?” 

She shot a glare at her brother-in-law, then turned away from him dramatically, snapping her fingers and taking a long drag from her cigarette where it had suddenly appeared. She held the smoke for a few beats, before blowing out again, the rings floating in shimmers across the room. “I know what happened at the wedding. I’m asking where my husband is, and why he refused to show his face this evening.” She glanced at Hades out of the corner of her eye. “I know you know. You might as well tell me, who is he with this time?”

Hades blanched, turning fully towards the enraged queen. “Bunny, it’s not like that… I--”

Poseidon cut in. “Wellll--”

The two seemed locked in a silent debate for a moment, before Hades sighed and hung his head. “Well, we don’t know for sure what it’s like. I, wh-what w-we mean to s-ssay is…”

Poseidon cut in as the god of the underworld gulped. “We don’t know where he is!”

“What?” Ares and Hera exclaimed together.

The room went dead silent for a moment, the only sound Athena’s soft muttering, which had not stopped for a moment since before the queen and prince had entered the room. 

“We, we were with him.” Hades began. Poseidon nodded emphatically. “He was, uh… incapacitated.” 

Hera rolled her eyes. “Go on…”

Hades gulped and his eyes sought Poseidon’s. The king of the seas stepped in, his usual happy go lucky attitude belying the information he was sharing with his sister-in-law. “We brought him back with us when you--er, Athena--called, and left him in the antechamber.”

“Mhmmm…” Hera waited, knowing there was more. 

“When we came out to get him, we couldn’t find him.” Poseidon finished lamely. 

“And?” 

“Annnd,” He rubbed the tips of his webbed ears, the tell showing that he was far from relaxed. “And, he may have been wearing Hades’ helm, so he’s invisible and we don’t have a way of tracking him.”

The air seemed to melt out of the room for a moment. 

Finally, Hera spoke, her voice choked with emotion. “So. We have a missing monarch, totally incapable of fending for himself at the moment, knowing the benders you three go on. And an extremely volatile situation that needs to be concluded in a trial by said god in the next ten hours.”

Hades frowned. “Tell us more about that, what does that mean. Athena said something happened at the wedding today?”

“Oh, something happened alright.” She sighed, waving half heartedly to the seats around the room. “Might as well make yourselves comfortable, we need to figure out what to do about all this.”

The brothers lowered themselves uneasily into their chairs, mentally preparing themselves. As their merriment from earlier continued to wear off, the sober reality of the situation was heavy on their minds. It was going to be a long night. 

  
  



End file.
